


Coffee

by GuileandGall



Series: Violaceous Fury [49]
Category: Saints Row
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Morning Sex, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 18:15:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12259536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuileandGall/pseuds/GuileandGall
Summary: A simple morning cup of coffee becomes so much richer.





	Coffee

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chyrstis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chyrstis/gifts).



> Been working on this prompt literally longer than I even know. I do know that it was started for a request for morning sex for Troy and Furia, which after a moment of study I found was sent to me by @chyrstis in … I’m so sorry … November 2014. I guess this just goes to show that patience pays off … and that I can be slow as hell with a prompt.

Troy leaned in the doorway, sipping his coffee as he let his eyes skim her form.  At first, he thought she was still sleeping, then she moved. Her hips rolled upward and it didn't matter that there was barely any light in the room. He could feel his smile bloom as her hips raised a little higher. That's when her head bowed a little more and he caught the curve of her mouth. He took another sip of coffee before setting the cup down. Crawling across the bed he placed kisses up the back of her leg that stuck out from beneath the sheet.

"I didn't mean to wake you up," he mumbled against her curve of her ass just before he bit it.

Furia shrieked and giggled, pulling away for a moment, before Troy wrapped his arm around her waist and did it again. Her hand found his hair this time and gave it a gentle tug as her laughter bubbled louder. Troy acquiesced, covering her body with his own. His hearty chuckle echoed against the soft curve of her long neck.

"You didn't. It was the coffee," she giggled, turning toward him.

He planted kisses over her shoulder and up her neck as he settled against her. "You should have said something. I'd have brought you a cup."

"Oh, I think this is much better than coffee." Her fingers teased through his hair and she leaned up to peck the tip of his nose.

Troy smiled, harboring a similar sentiment. “Oh really?” He slid his hand over her hip. "And just what might this be?" he asked, his hand moved to trace her bare arm, grazing the cap of her shoulder as his fingers moved toward her neck.

"You’re a clever man, I think you can figure out exactly what this is." Furia tipped her head in that seductive way of hers, her lips moving with each calculated syllable, knowing he would read every word upon them. “Of course, for most people the first clue would have been the naked woman shimmying beneath their sheets.”

Troy agreed. For most people, that would be a clue. “But you’re not most people,” he said. His fingers traced the column of her neck and down her chest, they moved to dip between her breasts, taking the sheet with them. “And I’ve learned it is dangerous to make assumptions with you.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” she replied with a smirk that was equal parts rapacious and playful.

“I know,” he taunted, his hand moving to cup her breast in a way that placed her nipple on display. They both glanced at it; he only barely caught that shift in her attention when he looked back up at her. It drew his smile wider and his body shifted against hers with the sheet still between them.

The deliberate nature of his movements kept her silent attention. The corner of her mouth twitching when his tongue peeked out. Her lips opened in a cavernous moan as he dragged the flat of his tongue over her bared flesh. It was one thing he’d figured out fast—her sensitivity and how much she liked to be touched, teased.

Of course, she also wasn’t beyond pay back. Furia always gave as good as she got, be it in a fight or in bed. Her hands tightened in his hair as his singular attention continued.

“Troy,” she all but whimpered when he tugged the sheet away from her left breast as well. They both knew the same treatment awaited it. And as needy as the rumble in her throat might seem, he didn’t rush, even with the faint lines of light peeking through the blinds.

When they were together it felt like the whole world stopped. Even if he knew it wasn’t true. With her he hated rushing, he preferred to bask in every reaction she gave up so wantonly. Though even he, in his reverence, was no stranger to the half-dressed quickie on his desk, in her car, or the other countless places it sometimes happened between them.

The second time she called his name it was a plea, a request. He lifted his chin, letting the whiskers of his goatee tickle the flesh he’d sucked to a sensitive peak. She patted the bed beside her, adding a soft, sweet, “Please.”

As he moved, she lazily rolled onto her side, pressing her back against his bare chest. He smiled against her shoulder and grazed her skin with his teeth before planting a kiss there.

 _Turnabout_ , he thought when her hips rolled against his. Then her hand draped over the one that rested upon her waist. Her head turned, and in an awkward exchange their lips met while she guided his hand between her thighs. She didn’t need to say what she wanted, nor did he need to be told.

The darkness cradled them, magnifying every soft moan from her lips. Vanilla permeated his senses, paired with the musk of her. The ache in his groin pulsed as she arched back against him and her hips bucking against both his hand and his cock. His name on her lips made him wanton; he pressed against her—fingers and hips rocking against her as he bit into her shoulder.

She called out, a mix of pleasure and maybe a shred of pain at the bite. “Troy.” Her voice already quieter, though it quivered in the same way the muscles of her back did against his chest. “Dios. Te deseo,” she breathed, her lips turning toward him again.

He seized them; his kiss deep and greedy as she rode out her orgasm. “You’ll have to try that one again, beautiful,” he told her with a hint of laughter in his voice. He loved how she forgot he was one of the few guys in the gang that didn’t know Spanish, which he saw more and more as a terrible oversight on his part.

When she moved again, he leaned up a hair. With no hint of pretense, her leg draped over his waist. Her hands skimmed along his ribs in a touch that would have been ticklish if he weren’t so keyed up. Sharp teeth dragged along his Adam’s apple until she tilted her head and blinked up at him. “I want you,” she said, doing far more than merely translating her words. Plump lips brushed against his like satin. “I want to feel you inside me,” she purred, kissing his cheek.

“Christ,” Troy breathed, staring at her. His words cut short by a low groan as one of her hands dove into his pants.

“What?” she asked. Her tone reached for a feigned innocence it would never reach

Her touch—warm, soft, and so damn tempting—distracted him a moment. He sealed their lips once more, thrusting into her grip, but he broke the kiss quickly. Her teasing threatened to push him past that haze of wantonness with far too much ease.

With great reluctance, he pushed himself away from her and onto his knees as he leaned for the bedside table. He yanked open the drawer, perhaps a little too hard because it almost flew across the floor. Her one hand kept up the teasing, while the other deftly slip his pajama pants over his hips.

“Damn,” he said, hips rocking into her smooth stroke. Once he removed the condom from the package, his weight shifted.

“Well, hurry next time,” she taunted as her hand slid down his shaft and cupped his balls. Troy rolled the latex on with a low growl hanging in his throat. At the rate she was going he wondered if she wanted him to finish quickly.

One of her hands snaked up his chest and abruptly pushed him backwards. There was still a hunger in her eyes as she crawled up his body, biting at his bare chest. Her mouth closed over a nipple as she straddled his body. The soft suck gave way to the slow scrape of her teeth. He hissed sharply and pulled her mouth to his, which was when she sank down on him quickly.

"I love that sound," Furia cooed when Troy broke their kiss with a deep moan.

He grinned at her, pulling her closer to drop light kisses on her chest. "You keep this up and you'll hear it more."

So, she did precisely that, rolling her hips against him. Furia seemed intent to entice him. Leaning up, her body moved like a ripple on the surface of a pond. Every inch of her shifted against him and her hands flexed against his chest as she rode him. The sight of her above him, dark tousled waves framing her face and skimming her breasts with every roll of her lithe body.

He watched her every move. Studied the shape of her mouth with every sound she made. Teased her skin to exquisite result, then as he approached the precipice of his own orgasm he gripped her hips.

“Sol,” he said quietly.

Her eyes met his. It wasn’t the usual challenge, more like assurance. Her body rocked hard against his, welcoming the erratic upward snap of his hips; then the rutting took on a manic quality—her exquisite face froze in a silent scream.  When the tension building him snapped like a rubber band wound tight, Troy’s body moved with similar abandon as she collapsed against his chest, breathless and spent.

They lay there, unmoving, in one another’s embrace. “So much better than coffee,” Troy agreed, pressing a kiss to her temple.

Furia’s laughter vibrated through him, then she sat up. “Told you so,” she teased, both her hands brushing his cheeks as she placed a soft, but content kiss upon his lips. “But like coffee, one cup is just enough. Two is decadent,” she warned before she shifted.

Troy watched her as she disappeared into the darkness of his room, the part beyond the bed. The bright assault of the bathroom light blinded him before he heard the click of the door closing and gentle swishing whisper of the shower. He stared at the bare hint of shadows moving in the sliver of light at the bottom of the door, considering joining her even as he knew where it might well lead.

Neither of their phones were ringing off the hook yet. There might be a few more minutes for them to claim together before the inevitable separation began anew. He never knew how long it would be before they were together again. Sometimes it could be the very next night, then there were the weeks where they’d both be drowning in responsibilities and emergencies that kept them apart far too long.

Part of him hated this cloak and dagger aspect of their relationship, but she had just as many reasons to keep it under wraps as he had. Though he hated it, he knew there wasn’t any other way. At least, not yet.


End file.
